It was spring. I drove past my old house probably to resent not being in it when I saw my daughter Jennifer walking home from school. I pulled up next to her and said “Hi Jennifer.” She kept walking, eyes ahead.
I parked near the house and got out of my car and sat on the curb and waited. When Jennifer came around the corner I said, “Hi Jennifer, want to have dinner with me tonight?” She didn’t respond. She walked right up to the front door and let herself in. I shrugged and got up from the curb and walked back to my car.
Before I could start it, two police cars screamed around the corner. One stopped behind me and one next to me. A cop shouted, “Don’t get out of your car.” I was confused.
A second cop I knew leaned his head in my window and said, “Just sit still. Jennifer called the police and told them she was afraid of you.” He said, police always respond in force when there’s suspected abuse.
“Abuse. All I did was sit on the curb and ask her to dinner,”
My friend the cop said, “I know. Sit still and let me talk to him.” The two cops conferred.
Then a sergeant said, “You can go.”
The friendly cop said, “I’m divorced too. Stay away from this neighborhood for a while.” Now I couldn’t even drive past my own house.
I struggled for two years with $2300-a-month child support payments and unemployment. I lost my job, my home, my tools, my money, my self-esteem and my daughter’s contact. I wasn’t invited to her sweet sixteen, if she even had one or to her high school graduation. I don’t have a photograph of her in cap and gown. I never saw her grades and she didn’t consult me about college. Fortunately, my son George visited me far more than the court said he could.
I was offered a great job in New Haven; close enough to New York that I could see George. I went to see him every weekend. Still no contact with Jennifer though; my emotional pain dulled to bitterness and my anger faded like the memory of my first dentist.
I was used to sending more than half of my net pay to my ex to support my children, but when I picked up George every week, he always wore the same old shoes. His clothes were shabby too. I was providing $2300 a month and she couldn’t buy him shoes.
George called me to say he’d begun looking at colleges. He asked if I were available to go with him to a college fair in May hosted by his high school. I said “Of course.” The day of the fair, I left my office early and drove to pick him up.
The fair helped him identify a few appropriate colleges and afterward, I dropped him at home and sped back to New Haven. A subpoena awaited me; my ex was suing me for increased child support because of changed circumstances. I was earning more money and she wanted to change her circumstances. My lawyer said I had no choice.
George’s graduation day arrived. Like most seniors, he’d lost interest in studies as soon as a couple of colleges admitted him. I drove down and picked up my parents so they could watch their grandson graduate. We found seats in the school’s auditorium and later when my ex walked in with Jennifer, they saw us and headed for the other side of the room. Jennifer didn’t wave or say hello to her grandparents. In fact, she hadn’t changed her behavior from a year before. My anger surfaced briefly and it wasn’t memory of my old dentist. This is the little girl I carried.” My anger was like a family pit bull everyone thought was trained, just waiting for an excuse to snarl and bite.
I swallowed the anger. That night I stayed at my parents’ home. In fact, I slept in the same room I’d used when I was a child.
Next morning, George called. “Dad,” he said, “can you pick me up?”
“Sure son, but you know I’m driving back to New Haven this morning?”
“I know. I’ll go with you.”
“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” I dressed and packed my car and drove over to pick him up.
He was standing on his mother’s front steps with his suitcase and TV. A teenager without a TV is like a teamster without a team.
“You moving out?” I asked the obvious.
“Yeh Dad, I’m moving in with you.”
He then cut off all contact with his Mom for five years. Teach your children well.
He moved into my second bedroom but there was no bed. We drove to the nearest mattress store and bought a mattress, box spring and bed frame and stacked them all on the roof of my car. I looped a rope around the stack and into the passenger’s window and out the driver’s. I couldn’t close the windows but the June weather was pleasant.
Days later I called my lawyer and told her, “My son George moved in with me last week.”
“Is it permanent?” she asked.
“He brought his TV, it must be.”
“Then I can get you a reduction in child support.”
“What do you need from me?” I asked her.
A week later she called again. “Your ex says George’s move is temporary and she’s maintaining his room for his return.”
“Return? He brought his TV.”
“I know. What do you want to do?”
“Sue her,” I said.
My lawyer filed a motion and we prepared for the hearing.
I was called to the stand first. I answered my lawyer’s questions easily, even those asked by my ex’s lawyer. I even managed to say, “A child who does not respect his parents cannot truly respect himself.”
Then it was my ex’s turn. She said, “George’s move is temporary and I’m awaiting his return.”
I slipped a note to my lawyer. “Ask the following four questions.
“What did you do with George’s room? A. Gave it to Jennifer.
“How many pair of shoes have you bought for George? A. None
“How many times have to taken George to the dentist in the past year? None
“How many tee shirts have you bought for him? A. None
“Ms. Costa,” she began, “What have you done with George’s room?”
Silence. The judge said, “Ms. Costa, would you like the question repeated?”
“No,” she said. “I gave it to Jennifer, I think.”
“You think? Please answer yes or no. How many pair of shoes have you bought for him?”
“None.”
“How many…”
“Ms. Costa,” the judge interrupted, “if you’re not spending the money on George, what have you spent it on?” Then he said, “I’ll see counsel from both sides in my chambers,” and he left.
I asked my lawyer, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I’ll be right back,” and she headed for the judge’s chamber.
When she came out she walked to me and leaned toward me and said, “You won’t believe it. He wants to know if you want to press charges for perjury. He’s furious and says he’ll entertain any offer for settlement you’re willing to make.”
“Suspend child support for George retroactive to last month.” I paused. “Can I get child support for him?”
“Why not?” My lawyer headed back to the judge’s chamber. She wore a big smile when she returned and sat down next to me.
The judge resumed the hearing and recalled my ex to the stand. He asked her, “Ms. Costa, do you understand the difference between right and wrong?”
“Yes, your honor,” she kept her eyes focused on the floor.
“Do you understand perjury?”
“Yes, judge.”
He ended by saying, “Ms. Costa, because of Mr. Morris’s generosity, I’m not going to press charges or issue a bench warrant but I want you to settle this matter.”
“Yes, judge.”
He summoned both lawyers to the stand to discuss the settlement. Then my lawyer began.
“Ms. Costa, my client graciously offers you the following terms: he will cease paying child support for Jennifer immediately, you will pay him $300 a month as net child support for George. I say net because his income is higher than yours and $300 is the minimum required by state law for your income. Is this acceptable to you?”
“But…I…how much?”
“Three hundred dollars a month until George is emancipated. Naturally you’ll continue to share college tuition 60-40.”
The two lawyers exchanged glances.
“I accept it.” She said.
That was the end of two years of watching my child support payments squandered on God knows what and two years of court-ordered wage garnishment because I was late twice. The first purchase I made with her measly $300, a new pair of shoes for George and a birthday card for Jennifer.
